


The House Without Judgement

by DivineVarod



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom - Susan Kay, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Caretaking, Coming Out, F/F, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, Kindness, Mild Sexual Content, Rare Pairings, Sexual Repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24839899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineVarod/pseuds/DivineVarod
Summary: When Christine struggles to come to terms with her feelings for Meg, she receives support from an unexpected ally.
Relationships: Christine Daaé & Meg Giry, Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	The House Without Judgement

**Author's Note:**

> Written for littlelonghairedoutlaws's RarePairs Fic Contest!

I never thought Raoul could be so very annoying, but he is. He truly is. This evening we watched Meg debut as Prima ballerina assoluta in Sleeping Beauty.

The night should have been magical. I had been so excited for Meg all week. I watched every rehearsal that I could and I spent every free moment with her cheering her on!!

Dear, sweet Meg, she has worked so awfully hard for this that one afternoon I found her crying in the empty rehearsal room.

“Meg, are you alright?” I asked, siting myself next to her.  
“My feet are hurting terribly …” Meg sighed, kicking off her ballet shoes. “Oh you poor thing.” I exclaimed looking at those poor wretched feet locked in the white stockings.

Before I knew it I was down on my knees. “Let me help.” I said as I took one of her feet in my hands and started massaging them softly. Holding that delicate well trained little foot made me feel all sorts of strange tingly things I didn't understand. I first held onto Megs feet only, but soon my hands found their way up her strong and slender ballet legs. Her flesh felt so firm, it was as if I could feel each well trained muscle in my hand. I could feel exciting energy beaming from her body and it was as if it entered me. I looked into her eyes and saw so many things I didn't understand.  
I quickly let go of her legs and scrambled to my feet.  
  
“But … Christine …?” she sounded confused. “I thought you were going to massage me?”  
  
“No ...” I stammered, “what if I do something wrong and ruin your debut?!”  
Thankfully Meg didn't ask anything else, but letting her down like this felt terrible. I made up for it by carrying her bags once she went home after her hard day.

* * *

My heart pounded as the show began and I sat there mesmerised … Meg in her white with gold, shining tulle dress, the golden ballet shoes, the crown in her beautifully made up hair. Her eyes, her lips … I could do nothing but stare, watching, spellbound. But Raoul kept babbling at me incessantly, seemingly bored. He talked about marriage, about what we'd do, about me being a Viscountess dressed in lace and silk nursing our baby, far away from this world.

Completely pulled from my fantasy I stared at him in horror. Was I to sit at home with baby? Was that all he had planned for me? Oh no, I told him. After our wedding I would go on singing and Meg would remain my best friend. “And I still want singing lessons from Erik,” my brain added, but sensibly my mouth didn't.

He started sulking when I said al this, insisting my attachment to Meg is unhealthy. After this he kept purposely disrupting the performance for me.

I can't understand this man: for goodness sake, this was Meg's debut!!

In the end Raoul annoyed me so much I ran to Madame Giry during the interval and asked her if “the Phantom” would grant permission for me to watch her daughter's debut from his box. Of course Erik naturally did.  
  
Finally in peace I could immerse myself into he performance and soon Meg was all I could see.

I was lost in a world were only Meg existed, Meg onstage, Meg dancing. Meg dancing with ME!!

In my mind I saw her wrapping that limber body around me. It made parts of me tingle that had not tingled before. My breath did odd things. I became aware of my chest going up and down faster and faster, my legs shaking my hands holding on tightly to the program. When I looked at it later it appeared that I had completely torn and twisted it.

After the performance I ran to her dressing room to congratulate her, but found her already half undressed. I intended to shut the door quickly; one should not watch people dressing, this is not polite. But something stopped me from doing this; I stopped myself, in fact. Simply because was completely mesmerised by her figure hugged in the tight ballerinas undergarment. I swallowed.

Soon she noticed me watching: “Christine, darling come in.” She smiled.

As if drawn to a force my body obeyed her command.  
“Congratulations Meg, you were so wonderful ...” I said softly.  
“Why, thank you!” Meg smiled at me as she removed the pins that held her hair up. Long blonde tresses cascaded down her back.

She was so beautiful: I have hardly ever seen her with her hair not up in a tight bun so seeing her with her long shimmering blonde locks waving over her shoulders was breathtaking.  
“You have lovely hair,” I said stupidly.

“You like it like this?” she asked softly.  
“Yes … It is beautiful.” I muttered quietly.  
“I will remember that.” She said in a strange, almost mysterious voice, then she began brushing her hair as I stood behind her.  
As I watched her softly brushing those long, strong, shining tresses, I found myself wishing to be that hair as it always got to kiss her face and torso or to be that small silver brush that had the privilege of stroking that beautiful hair, hair that smelled of fresh flowers.

That damn brush doesn't know how happy it should be, I thought.  
Oh my … did I really wish to be Meg Giry's hairbrush? What was wrong with me? I shook my head, trying to stop the insane journey my brain was insisting on taking me on.  
  


_“Christine, my dear, why so quiet?”_  
  


Suddenly I realised she was standing right in front of me, delight in her eyes.

My silence made her come even closer.

Then …

Oh my, so close we almost kissed. My word, we almost kissed!! To my horror every fibre of my body told me I really wanted this, longed for this. But at the same time there was this fear of crossing a line I wasn't ready to cross. Like a fool I let this part take over and ran away.  
  


_Can a woman kiss another woman like she would a man? Would papa approve?_  
  
All my life I tried to repress it, to put it away. A few times now the feeling had sneaked into my heart, my soul, my mind, but I had always been successful in denying it for myself by looking for father figures, people that could replace my father. Some could, could do so really well, but no-one has ever been able to truly fill the empty places in my heart, no matter how much I wanted them too, no matter how easy it would have been.

My longing is for something that might be forbidden and nothing but this can heal the empty place it waits to fill …  
When I close my eyes I can almost imagine her kissing me, like I wished we’d done. I want her to kiss me, I really want her to kiss me. What am I to do with these feelings? Who will help me understand? What am I to do?

  
At that moment I only knew one person that would keep me safe, even from myself.

In a panic I ran to my dressing room and called for Erik, knowing he would hear me from anywhere. The moment he arrived I begged him to take me to his house. I needed to be alone with my thoughts and knew that only Erik understood when I need peace. There down below is quiet and safety and a man who understands me better than I do myself.

* * *

* * *

  
I had the most delightful surprise this evening as halfway through tonight's performance a shy looking Madame Giry told me she had a request from a Miss Christine Daaé, asking permission to watch the rest of the show from my box in peace. Oh dear, I distinctly remembered her making the appointment to attend this premiere with a certain Viscount. Did things turn sour so fast? Naturally I could not refuse, as all this was just too delightful. After a greeting of sorts I had the sense to stay quiet and give her the opportunity to watch the show the way she wanted: without some idiot talking all the way through it. I did not mind, as it gave me the opportunity to watch how Christine observed Meg. She was so calm, so at peace and I noticed a look on her face that I had not seen before. She had never looked like me this way, but neither, I was pleased to say had Raoul been granted a look like this. The look reminded me of the times I had sang to her when she still thought me her angel: it was as if she was mesmerized, her eyes glowing. Watching little Meg it amplified: her eyes were open wide, her cheeks where flustered and she was shaking uncontrollably. Spellbound by that lithe dancing figure. I wonder if she even realises how much her true feelings are showing. I also realise, to my surprise, that it does not make me feel jealous. All I sense inside of me is a need to help her. Especially when I noticed how much her feelings seem to scare her.

To my amazement she called for me in the dressing room later that evening . When I answered her call she clung to me in a very agitated state and requested me to take her to my home. I obeyed, but I had the strongest sensation that what she wanted to be taken away from was her own mind, and sadly no-one can escape from this.

  
_“Isn’t Meg the most beautiful dancer you have ever seen?”_ Christine asked me today, during a tea break, eyes bright with delight. “The most talented dancer in the world?”  
I did not dare tell her that I personally had seen many dancers who were easily Miss Giry’s superior, why ruin Christine’s joy? If she thinks Madame Giry’s little girl that wonderful than far be it for me to disagree.

The subject brought to the table, I decided it was time to talk to her. She clearly still sees me as some sort of father substitute, so why not guide her the way a good father would?

“Christine ...” I said, as kindly as I could. “There is something I wanted to talk to you about.”  
  
“Oh?” she frowned nervously.

Poring tea I sighed, thinking of how to put my thoughts to her the right way. Then I decided I would just be blunt, as it seemed the easiest route to take.  
  
“You don't have to hide your feelings, Christine, not for me and not for anyone. Love should be celebrated. If your attraction to your best friend is so clear, how could anyone feel anything but happiness for you?”

For a second she looked at me as if I had gone insane, well more than usual.

“But ...” she whispered. “What does Raoul have to do with anything? I’ve hardly seen him lately and when I do he is usually being quite ghastly to me. I am not attracted to him at all.”

Raoul? Oh Christine, do you think I am that easily derailed?  
  
“Oh but dear child, it is not him that I am talking about. I have no intention of giving him more credit than he is worth. No my angel, it is little Miss Meg Giry I wish to discuss.”  
  
I inwardly chuckled as her eyes suddenly went big and her cheeks turned a bright hint of pink as her hands shot up to a suddenly heaving chest. She looked as if I had caught her deepest secret as I had anticipated.  
  
“Erik ...” she gasped. “Erik, my word!! What do you mean? Meg and I are close, very close friends, nothing else. What on earth could there be to discuss?”  
  
I smiled reassuringly at her, relaxing in the thought that my senses had not betrayed me. This was the reaction of a young girl unsure and afraid of feelings she has been taught to think of as wrong.  
  
“Oh Christine. I am so sorry if my questioning has upset you but … I just wanted you to know that if you were to feel more … for Meg than friendship … No matter what anyone has told you, it is not wrong or sinful. Don’t look at me this way Christine, I know that these thoughts would never enter your head. But if they would … I just wanted you to know that they should not upset you, feeling love for someone is never wrong and should never be judged. If I can help or support you in any way, know that I will. I will always be here for you, as I want nothing more for you than your complete happiness.”

With that I picked up my tea and drank, leaving her to her thoughts.

* * *

* * *

Once again Erik knows me far to well. How does he know these things? Is he a mind-reader as well? He thinks feeling like I do is not wrong. He is so well read and travelled, so maybe he has met others who are like me. I dared not ask, unfortunately, even though I was so close to admitting my truth to him. Sweet Erik, so easily offering his blessing ans support, he made me feel less confused, less alone. Today I will return to Meg and just tell her about what I feel.

When Erik brought me back to the Opera that afternoon he smiled at me and said. “Remember Christne, be brave.” Obviously he sensed my plans, this gave me the courage to go through with it.

I invited Meg to my dressing room, the safest place I know, except for my room at Erik's house.  
When we entered I knew that for a brief moment two eyes other than hers where watching me, they gave me strength as I felt no disapproval coming from them. No, I felt a strong sense of actual approval, more than that, I felt … pride and happiness for me? _“feeling love for someone is never wrong”_ I heard whispered gently in my mind and then he left, giving me the privacy to speak my truth to my beloved dancer.

“Meg …” I stammered. “I ...”  
“Christine!!”  
My words were taken from me by a mouth that connected with mine: Meg's mouth!! Arms locked around me: Meg's arms!!! So … she felt this too?  
No words, just lips and arms. I decided we did not need words, instead I caressed the curves of Meg’s beautiful body, her strong dancers limbs, her small perfect breasts. My entire body started quivering the moment she started touching me, all my senses became alert responding to every touch.  
I watched her nipples harden and felt mind do the same. Her beautiful mouth a bit open, I moved mine towards it. An endless kiss, then we lay down together, slowly, feeling, feeling, closer and closer till complete bless met us.  
Words became redundant, I threw myself into the soft, warm arms weeping with happiness, I kissed the hungry, beautiful, dear sweet mouth. The full lips, **her** mouth. The mouth of she that I love, really love. No illusion but real, true, love!! My dear sweet ballerina, my little goddess.  
  
Another kiss that seemed to last forever … It seemed as if I was drowning in it … As if I was drowning in a sea of love. I felt strong and happy.

A sense of heaven came when I slowly pushed my hand underneath her soft and tight ballet top. Her soft little breasts felt like satin and I felt her heartbeat underneath my hand. It felt so good when I noticed she did not push me away. I think my Meg –it feels so good writing this down- knew that I still had some fears within me, it was the moment that my father came into my mind and I froze. What would he think of me being like this?

She put her mouth to my ear and whispered “Don’t be afraid Christine,” her slender ballerinas body close to me, “Your father would have wanted to see you happy …don’t be afraid, everything will be all right.”

Then we started … undoing our corsets … Oh gosh!! It took so long, we kept interrupting ourselves, because we could not stop kissing each other!  
All the tension, all the endless waiting, all of the passion that we had repressed seemed to unload itself in a whirlwind of kissing, feeling, testing. We were mad with ravenous passion and started pulling stupidly at each others corsets, they were in our way and in our ecstasy we just couldn’t get them off!!  
Sadly the moment we had released most off them and kissed to celebrate, the door suddenly slammed open!! We looked up in shock, my hand on Megs breasts, hers on mine, our lips entwined. I am ashamed to say that I flinched …

“Christine, how dare you just ...”

There was Raoul, in the doorway, his eyes almost popping out of his head with shock. Meg’s face turned white and she held me a little tighter. I soon saw what scared her so much; Behind Raoul a crowd begun to form: several members of the corps de ballet, the management the crowd seemed to grow bigger every second.

As Raoul started speaking I managed to use a free arm to grab my dressing gowns and hand one to Meg, we covered out modesty as the crowd kept gaping at us with wide open mouths. Neither of us had ever felt this embarrassed ever before.  
”Christine,” Raoul whined, “are you … what is … how … when?”  
Before he could actually utter a sentence or I could answer to his stammers others of the “audience” begun waking up and started putting in their two cents. Cries of “shame”, “vile”, and “depraved” filled the air.

It was so hypocritical: most of the cries came from people whom I'd seen doing rather appalling things in public to people they were not married to, or in love with. I did not speak: the crowd was too big and I did not want to provoke lest they lashed out.

Meg and I seemed to be nailed to the spot, we could not move from fear. We clung together for dear life and did not know what to do. Then one of the managers ran forward; “This is an outrage!!” he screamed, “you are both fired, and I will make sure that neither of you will ever work again.” Everyone seemed to agree with that sympathy. They even whispered about “hanging” and “beheading”, I soon realised these words came from a smug La Carlotta.  
Then of course Raoul had to leap forward “And here I was wanting to marry you!! You are a terrible woman!!” he stared at me with eyes of ice, nothing was left of the so called “gallant knight in shining armour” who had wanted to protect me from the world. For a second it flashed through my mind, what had he actually wanted to protect me from? Erik? Who has always supported me without question? At least Meg and I would be safe there, he would not judge us. If only he were here now!!

Suddenly to our fear the crowd started to move towards us. We pressed ourselves to the mirror and the wall in fear. I screamed. Then something happened; suddenly the door fell into the lock, the lights went out and I felt the mirror move.

The next second we were on the other side of the mirror and the mirror was back in it’s normal position as a hand locked it.  
”Yes … it is true,” he said, “you will be a lot safer here.” He smiled to a dumbfounded Meg. “Both of you are safe here.”

In tears I jumped into Erik’s arms. “Thank you, thank you …” I whispered, seeing Meg relax at my familiarity with our saviour.

He gently took my hand and Meg’s, helped us into the boat and brought us safely to his house beyond the lake. The house without judgement, the house where we all lived in bliss forever after.


End file.
